ALESSIO’S POV
426 Words
Bonus chapter
Pain was supposed to be familiar.
Alessio DeLuca had been shot before. Cut before. Betrayed in ways that hurt far worse than bullets. Pain was something he catalogued, controlled, endured.
This was different.
Not because of the wound—but because of her.
He felt Sofia’s arm around his back, her shoulder braced under his weight, refusing to let him fall. She was smaller than him, lighter, yet stubbornly solid. Every instinct he had screamed to push her away, to protect her from the mess of blood and violence that followed him everywhere.
Instead, he leaned into her.
That realization hit him harder than the bullet.
She was talking—commanding, focused, fearless. Not begging. Not panicking. Ordering him to walk, to breathe, to stay with her. As if he were the one who needed grounding.
No one spoke to him like that.
No one dared.
And yet, he obeyed.
Each step burned, but her presence anchored him, sharp and real. He caught flashes of her face—jaw set, eyes steady, hands firm against his wound. She wasn’t looking at him like a monster or a king.
She was looking at him like a man who was bleeding.
That unsettled him more than the attack.
When she pressed cloth to his side, pain exploded white-hot through him. His fingers closed around her wrist without permission, without thought. He expected her to pull away.
She didn’t.
She held on tighter.
Something inside his chest cracked—small, dangerous.
When he ordered the room cleared and demanded she stay, he told himself it was practical. She’d seen too much. She was already involved.
But that wasn’t the truth.
The truth was simpler and far more terrifying.
He didn’t want her to leave.
As the doctor worked, Alessio watched her instead of the wound. Watched the way she didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. Watched how she matched his grip with her own when the pain surged, grounding him in a way no one ever had.
This woman had been handed to him as leverage.
Collateral.
And yet she stayed when blood hit the floor.
When it was over and the room emptied, exhaustion dragged at him, but his mind was sharper than ever. He studied her face—the defiance, the resolve, the quiet fire she didn’t bother hiding.
“You’re not collateral,” he heard himself say.
The words felt final. Binding.
Dangerous.
Because in his world, anything that mattered became a target.
And Sofia Marchetti mattered now.
Whether he wanted her to or not.
- Writer
